With a book like this, the movie pretty much made itself. You could've just as well filmed the pages being flicked through (preferably by Javier BardeWith a book like this, the movie pretty much made itself. You could've just as well filmed the pages being flicked through (preferably by Javier Bardem, I'm sure he'd do it astoundingly) and you'd get roughly the same experience.
I understand the comparisons being made between the film and the book. That's the kind of understanding guy I am. I can only say both are masterpieces. It all starts with Cormac McCarthy though, and while the Coen brothers and the cast of the movie did a tremendous job, I think the biggest piece of the praisecake should go to the author.
This book has many things that define good books: 1. Suspense: Danger looms everywhere as soon as that suitcase gets in the picture. You can feel it breathing down the neck of everyone who comes near it. The main personificiation of this danger, Anton Chigurh, is one of the most legendary villains I've come across. Cold, rational, in control. 2. Pacing: While this is a book where you wonder what will happen next, it doesn't give you much time for doing that. Because while you're wondering BOOM, there's a surprise for you. BAM, there's another one. WHOOSH, still didn't see that coming, did you? Chigurh moves faster than your fears do. 3. Characters: Bell, the good. Chigurh, the bad. And everyone else gloriously in between, with their little views and wisdoms.
Speaking of wisdoms: The Bell-monologues are what really gave this book the extra touch for me. His fondness for his wife Loretta is the strongest counterweight to Chigurh. There are things that Bell possesses that Chigurh can never put a hole in. Reading those monologues is like listening to your grandfather, full of wisdoms that seem so commonplace to the person uttering them that it becomes touching, especially in contrast with what's really going on in the world that has gone and changed around them.
Some of my favorites, that I'd like to print on little plaques and hang up around my kitchen:
(without quotation marks, they wouldn't feel right)
All the time you spend tryin to get back what's been took from you there's more goin out the door.
He said there was nothin to set a man's mind at ease like wakin up in the mornin and not havin to decide who you were.
I think that when all lies are told and forgot the truth will be there yet. It dont move about from place to place and it dont change from time to time. You cant corrupt it anymore than you can salt salt. You cant corrupt it because that's what it is. It's the thing you're talkin about. (...) I'm sure they's people would disagree with that. Quite a few, in fact. But I never could find out what any of them did believe.
You never know what worse luck your bad luck has saved you from.
If you'd like even more wisdom, particularly pertaining to this book and its interpretation, you might like the views of someone who actually knows what he's talking about. (that mysterious review he refers to is also very interesting, but I don't want to reveal too much yet in this regard)...more
I must admit I had expected more of this (I always considered Hesse's Steppenwolf an all-time favorite). But I have myself to blame, as I had been warI must admit I had expected more of this (I always considered Hesse's Steppenwolf an all-time favorite). But I have myself to blame, as I had been warned by the title: this is a poem, but I couldn't stop myself from reading it as if it were a novel. This book doesn't explain, it sings. And I guess I don't really like the tune.
There are a lot of dreamy passages, metaphors and Sansaras of reasoning. We run, life runs, the river runs, we run in the river of life running in the rivers within us. That sort of thing. The repetitions are way more artistic and soothing to the ear than what I just did, but given that I read an English translation (even though it was a very good one), the original art inevitably gets lost to some extent.
I think Hermann Hesse himself was not sure what to think of the text he produced, and I keep wondering if he himself considered himself to be "wise" and "enlightened". He certainly gives off that vibe during most of the book, which I guess was a must to be able to give the book any impact. He certainly seems to have gathered a following through this poem, though I fail to see what exactly it is that is so convincing, captivating or attractive. Let alone life-changing. Om? A bit vague, no? It's like a cloud. I wonder how one can change his life after reading this? There's no practical way I can discern- clinging to clouds has proved futile time and again. Maybe in a philosophical sense, where seeing the cloud is enough to make you realize something, but sadly, that realization didn't present itself to me through this book.
For all the nicely sounding prose and despite the lofty air it assumes, the author's inner conflict and struggle over this work was made evident to me through a quote that I'll share in closing, a quote that could have been used as a disclaimer at the start of the book. The author chose to spare it for the last chapter however, and the words feel like an apology, a cop-out even. A bit like those fantastical novels that end with
"And then he woke up, and was relieved to find it was all a dream."
The writer seems to build up to something nicely, but then throws his hands up in the air and gives up.
Let these words be a warning for those seeking answers:
"Wisdom cannot be passed on. Wisdom that a wise man attempts to pass on always sounds like foolishness."
These words strengthened my skepticism, explaining the maybe harsh tone of this review, but if wisdom can't be passed on, and readers claim to have gained wisdom by reading this, what am I missing?
Like I said, I probacertainly haven't been reading/reviewing this as the author had intended it. The journey is what matters, not the answer. Maybe this 2 star review tells you more about how my mind has closed off for the sing-songs of the soul and has become impervious for the deepest truths of living. I certainly hope not, but it might be something for you to consider before you pass up on this book. Plenty of people loved it and they're good people too. ...more
This book reads like a series of reviews you could find on Goodreads, by someone who seems to know (and love) what he's talking about.A pleasant read.
This book reads like a series of reviews you could find on Goodreads, by someone who seems to know (and love) what he's talking about. It's the author's scholarly opinion on the author's selection of classics (he never strays too far away from those, which is understandable given the title) interspersed with tidbits of writer biographies and historical context.
The fact that he sometimes spoils endings and plots of books maybe should have been expected, but came as an unpleasant surprise nonetheless (happens five or six times). The selection of books and authors he discusses, the time he chooses to spend on some (the man clearly loves Dickens and Austen), and his interpretation of certain works is quite personal. Maybe too personal given the vibe of objectivity the book cover radiates, and the book description on this very page. An introductory disclaimer in this regard would have been welcome.
Sutherland has failed miserably in two instances: he did not mention Goodreads as a factor in the modern day reading experience, and he called Sir Thomas More's Utopia boring. Two transgressions I can forgive (though not easily), so let me conclude the same way I started: all in all, a pleasant read (but not everything it claims to be)....more
"Last and First Men" has been a unique experience. It teaches and entertains, not by presenting the reader with facts, but by serving him and her with"Last and First Men" has been a unique experience. It teaches and entertains, not by presenting the reader with facts, but by serving him and her with a broad range of possibilities that don't only open the eyes but also the mind.
On a basic level, the experience was very pleasant because of the imaginative power of Olaf Stapledon. His imagination is second to none. The images he conjures up provided me with the biggest spectacle I've ever seen, and that I can hope to see in the future. A single paragraph sometimes contains more wealth than the complete oeuvres of our most celebrated authors. To an author, this book must read like a succession of story settings, and it's not surprising to see many claim it has been a source of inspiration to their own work. And yet while this book is rightly praised for this abundance of imagination and the mind-blowing proportion of it, this praise falls short of expressing what made "Last and First Men" such a magnificent read to me. A love for life seeps from its pages, rooted in common sense but also in the romantic. It's a symphony of reason and emotions, of smallness and vastness, and its conclusion left me enriched, happy and deeply moved.
A fear I have while writing this review is that my admiration for it won't do this book any justice, nor any favors. That it will imperfectly shape expectations of anyone reading this review, that it will put so much emphasis on my experience of it so that it doesn't leave room for you, the reader, to form an opinion that completely disregards what might be perceived as the opinion of a wide-eyed fanatic. Or that people not having liked the book will use my possibly emotional arguments against the very thing I hold so dear. But I have to take my chances. I do want to share it, given that at times my heart literally was beating faster while reading, and that my eyes could simply not believe what they were reading. The fact that this book was written/published in 1930, before even World War II happened, adds to the sense of something miraculous having occurred here. I repeatedly double-checked if this 1930 wasn't in reference to something else, a symptom of the lack of belief that characterized my eyes at the time of reading.
One of the things I liked aside from the bedazzling scope of the author's imagination is the way the fourth wall was broken through the idea that the author himself was but a vessel of communication between a very distant future human life form and the reader. The account of all the iterations of mankind's evolution and the richness in detail and nuance make it read like a convincing historical account, convincing enough to even entertain the idea proposed by the author that the future speaks to us through these pages.
This leads me to react on two criticisms I have read here repeatedly. The first is that the near-future predictions were wrong. While I guess this is true when it comes to certain details, protagonists, scientific discoveries and so on, I think no justice is done to this book by considering it a "historical account of the future", a creative exercise in future forecasting. It's more than that. It's more than anything I know, and categorizing it is a mistake. Even science fiction is too narrow a field to contain all that is within this book. In any case, running your finger along its lines and double-checking it with reality is futile and senseless, and completely besides the point. In fact, even in his supposedly wrong predictions of the near future, Stapledon touched on some very true traits of human nature. In my version of the book the foreword by Gregory Benford actually recommends not reading the first chapters because of their factual errors. Please do not follow this man's advice. Don't skip anything in this book, or at least not anything Stapledon has written.
A second criticism I read is on the way the "story" is presented. There is a lack of a constant character to relate to and the birdseye-view (or Flying Man's view) prevents any bonding between reader and story. I can't but disagree. First of all, the civilisations are presented in a way that is detailed and passionate enough as to allow the reader to feel right at home among them, whether they'd be on Earth, Venus or Neptune. Sometimes (though rarely) Stapledon also zooms in on individuals, providing the reader with yet another way of engaging with the millions of characters that are within this book. And ultimately, I myself couldn't help but feel like a character within it. How's that for immersion? This story tells the story of humanity, so the leap is not that big to make.
This book is deeply philosophical. And here we come to the main reason why I don't just like this book, but love it. It asks life's biggest questions without falling into the trap of falling on one's knees and shout out an exasperated "WHY?!". Rather, it's written by someone with a tender yet firm, a questioning yet reassuring voice. It's always very collected, dispassionate when exploring possibilities, when describing the search of so many people, the defeats they endure, their disappointments and their small victories. It's an ode to humanity, without forgetting the baseness and evil that sometimes characterizes us. And despite the theme, it doesn't present humankind as the center of the universe, though it does shortly consider the possibility that it is its most beautiful flower. This consideration is blissfully left open without a conclusion. It's an ode to light despite all the darkness that surrounds it. It's an ode to the temporary in an eternal setting. It's an ode to the cosmos despite not knowing what the hell it is. It's telling me that life is ultimately beautiful, despite its insignificance in the vast expanse of time, space and possibilities. That the universe is a wonderful riddle, regardless of whether we can solve it or not. That being able to recognize the mystery that surrounds and pervades us is a gift in itself, a spark that can take humanity a far way.
I highly recommend this book to everyone. I won't judge you if you don't like it, I can't offer the guarantee that you will, but I can only say I'm very glad I can count myself among those who really do. I won't claim this book is an easy read. There were days where I didn't feel I had the mental capacity to fully get what was written and move forward. But it's a fulfilling read. Be patient and give yourself the time to find the right moment to read it. I'm surprised this book isn't a worldwide, timeless success, given its scope. There's something in there for everyone and it's surprising to me that it's not part of mass culture, but this surprise makes me all the more grateful that I got the chance to discover it. I'll see what I can do in making other people get acquainted with it as well, hoping but not expecting them to like it as much as I did. Maybe I can start by convincing you? ...more
Benson captured the 47 persona perfectly in my view, making this a must-read for all fans of the games. It provides some additional backstory on the pBenson captured the 47 persona perfectly in my view, making this a must-read for all fans of the games. It provides some additional backstory on the psychology of our favorite Hitman, without the author taking too many personal liberties in which he reinterprets it to his own liking. He really sticks to the world and characters created by IOI very well, but does allow more depth to 47's character, as well as some kind of evolution. The book also provides a very useful bridge between the games (Bloodmoney and Absolution) like it promises to.
In fact, it delivers on all of its promises, so that I'd also recommend it for people unfamiliar with the games. Thrilling, fast-paced action sequences, great tension building, switching perspectives, switching timelines, interesting characters and a plot that's not overly straightforward (though not too difficult either). It makes for a quick, easy and enjoyable read.
My only minor gripe: the big Hollywood-finale. I guess that's the direction the entire Hitman franchise is going in anyway (considering yet another Hitman movie now in theatres), but that doesn't mean I have to like it. ...more
When you read that, and you're a fan of the Hitman video games like I am, you know the author doesn't really know his source materia"Agent 47 laughed"
When you read that, and you're a fan of the Hitman video games like I am, you know the author doesn't really know his source material.
Aside from some name droppings of Vittorio and Ort-Meyer, probably fed to the author by an Eidos employee, Dietz had no clue who he was writing about and was probably basing it off a one-time viewing of someone playing the game. As a result, he takes too many liberties and it no longer feels as if he's writing about the 47 we know from the games. Instead we read about a trigger-happy actor who enjoys himself a good meal and doesn't mind a conversation.
All this is, is a mediocre action thriller that sometimes feels rushed (side-stories that don't get finished, an underwhelming ending). I suspect the author planned a bigger finale but didn't get the time and had a very strict deadline to meet. The book sometimes does manage to get the setting and pacing right, making some sections mildly entertaining.
I'd say: To avoid, for anyone, but for fans of the Hitman games in particular. Aside from 47's portrait on the cover and an occasional reference to the game, this book isn't about the Hitman we know.
Curious to see what Raymond Benson did with this inpiring character in Hitman Damnation.
I started this book thinking I was going to dislike it, but figured it would be a quick read and at least I'd know what the fuss was about. Now I findI started this book thinking I was going to dislike it, but figured it would be a quick read and at least I'd know what the fuss was about. Now I find myself pleasantly surprised.
Never judge a book by its cover but that's what I had done. When I saw the tag line "THE ADDICTIVE NO.1 BESTSELLER THAT EVERYONE IS TALKING ABOUT", I braced myself for disappointment. Everyone? I think hardly a percentile of the world's population has maybe mentioned it casually in a conversation.
Yet, here I find myself writing about it. The book was good. Slow start, yes. A very angry book as well, full of swear words and acid seeping through the lines, which I don't particularly appreciate.
But it was clever! Sometimes too boastful about its own cleverness, which yanked me out of immersion, but quite clever indeed. There is sadly a tiny, small lie in there that is coming from the author (not the narrator, mind you) to ensure a certain effect on the reader I can't quite forgive, but that I can't quite get into without spoiling it. Along with the acidity, this lie cost this book a star.
I noted that many people strongly dislike this book, and that this group more often than not refers to the characters they dislike. I think any book that can engender such a dislike for fictional characters to make people need to vent about it the way they do, is doing something really well. Don't Judge a book by its vile characters? Shouldn't that be a saying?
Gone Girl is more than just its twists, and definitely worth the read! ...more
Five stars? All the stars! This is the best book I have ever read. My other 5-star-ratings pale in comparison to this big wonder of a book. My GoodreaFive stars? All the stars! This is the best book I have ever read. My other 5-star-ratings pale in comparison to this big wonder of a book. My Goodreads-rating system needs revision. Hors categorie.
A fantasy classic? It's so much more than that. It's about everything that matters in life, told in the warm voice of a brilliant and gifted author. He has struck a chord within me that will keep on trembling forever.
Humor, adventure, suspense, tragedy, poetry, romance, philosophy, history, faith, sociology, tradition, fantasy, the list goes on and on. It contains everything.
A page-turner. More than 600 pages? Not to worry. By the time you're done with them it will have felt like 600 days do after they are over. Short. But not 'too short', for they will have left a mark.
This book is a friend. Possibly, probably, for life. I love him first page to last, and finishing it hurt a little as with all tender goodbyes, but I will revisit him often.
I have already encountered difficulties suggesting and praising this book to friends, given their association of Merlyn = just for kids. They are wrong.
This book is perfect in every way, apart from the problem it presents me with now: What to read next? Which book(s) to taint with its enormous shadow?...more
It seems like they never stop eating in this book, so the first thing I have to say is that despite the title, the sense of "hunger" is completely losIt seems like they never stop eating in this book, so the first thing I have to say is that despite the title, the sense of "hunger" is completely lost on me.
The premise is great: a dictatorial regime that controls people through a deadly, televised competition that is held every year. The nation is divided into several districts and each district has to sacrifice two of their kids to participate in that competition. Only one kid can survive, and the winning district gets more food and stuff from the government for a year. This provides entertainment, control and a history lesson: don't mess with the government, it's been tried before and you got these Games as a result. Neat idea but hyperactive suspension of disbelief is required. I can get people sacrificing their kids (it's been done), but the impact this practice has on this society seems disturbingly small. At least in this part of the trilogy, but I guess people will wake up from this unexplainable slumber.
The further unraveling of this premise is lacking in depth. Of course there are poor districts and districts that are better off, and of course our protagonist comes from one of the poorest ones. Overview of the situation is lost, and we delve into the mind of the narrator: Katniss Everdeen. A perspective that I found only moderately interesting, given the flatness of this rather cliché-ridden character. Luckily there is Rue. Rue must be the most lovable character ever conceived and I'll admit some tear-production whenever she gets mentioned. The games themselves, well, I don't know. The (some very cold-blooded) children teaming up and forming packs of hunters in this kind of contest doesn't make any sense, so again: suspension of disbelief required. And like I said: there is no hunger. The element of kid versus nature is hardly present, also because nature in the game-world is some man-made software thing that can change with the push of a button.
But, despite some shortcomings, my faith in young adult literature and, more importantly, my inner child has been restored after reading this, which after what I call the John Green disaster is no small feat. It's rather mature in that it is composed and not overly pedantic. It's a very clean narrative, as clean as how any mom would want their children's room to be. I will definitely finish this trilogy.
(You can find the reviews of the other parts of this trilogy, and more, here!)...more
It's hard to put a finger on why I don't like this book. Part of it is because it sounds populist to me. I think Gladwell likes putting people into stIt's hard to put a finger on why I don't like this book. Part of it is because it sounds populist to me. I think Gladwell likes putting people into statistics, making conclusions based on these statistics that apply "generally speaking", and translates that into succesful books that speak to the mean population, who go "yeah, that's right!". I don't know, I guess I'm an outlier because I don't get that feeling ;-) Despite what it claims to be, it feels very one-sided and not as objective as it would like you to think. There's a part of the picture missing. I feel the idea of this book would have worked better as a small chapter in Freakonomics.
The most tragic tragedy I have read so far, also because it feels so close to "home". Chilling. Better not to dwell on it for too long, but a must-reaThe most tragic tragedy I have read so far, also because it feels so close to "home". Chilling. Better not to dwell on it for too long, but a must-read nonetheless. (also, don't read the title of the book, it contains a huge spoiler)...more
I read this book once so far, but I'm planning to read it again. And again. And again.
One reason for this, aside from the fact that it's a quick and I read this book once so far, but I'm planning to read it again. And again. And again.
One reason for this, aside from the fact that it's a quick and extremely pleasurable read, is that I don't think I have gotten beyond the point of taking this story at face value. When I see others' reviews I see explanations and interpretations, analysis and theories which are all very interesting, deep and wide-ranging, so I feel as if I've missed out on plenty by getting only one aspect covered. This book opens other books, in essence those of the people reading it, and I feel that in the library of my own heart there is a volume or two still waiting to be read, with the assistance of this play.
The beauty of this story, for me, lies in its simplicity. It's a book that magically conjures up images and ideas beyond what is written, a work of art that makes the reader explore their own doubts and convictions, about friendship, dreams, ambition, freedom, society, the list goes on. It's tiny and it's huge. It's a book that provides plenty of footholds for philosophy and other such commendable fields of thought. A gem that gives the beholding eye a sparkle of its own.
What this book was for me at face value was a story about two men. I'm sure there must have been mice somewhere in the story, serving as careless observers of what was going on in the stables, fields and shacks, providing an explanation for all the goings on behind stage, the ruffling of the curtains picked up by watchful members of the audience, but aside from the title they're not really mentioned. No matter, the men carry this story beautifully. The star of this book is the friendship between these two men. One guy is a bit of a simpleton, Lennie, who has his heart in the right place. The problem of this man is that his heart's good intentions are misunderstood by everyone around him. Except for one person. The simpleton has a friend, George, and this friend also has his heart in the right place. I love reading about people with their hearts in the right places, they are inspiring without fault. George is very clever, he has a way with people and with ideas. He's the kind of guy of whom you know he'll always find his way in life, even though he doesn't always seem to be too ecstatic about it. Regardless of his lack of mirth he's got a certain drive to him, but he rarely uses it to change his fate and he chooses to just go with the flow, making not drowning a simple priority.
Their friendship is a shelter, which serves both men in these hard times. Lennie gets guidance and protection. He is highly dependent of George as a result, because in times that aren't simple, simple men get left behind. Only George decides to stay by his side. George gets companionship, a very rare commodity in this play's setting. George needs rooting, because all this going with the flow business does wear him out sometimes, and he has found this rooting with the strong, big shouldered Lennie.
Times get harder though, and the shelter, built on a mutual dream between these two men, has to stand up against tough winds, coming from within and without. This story, for me, is about the beautiful struggle of this friendship against the forces that oppose it.
I'm sure there's more to this gem that I hope to discover during later readings. All I can say for now is that it made my eyes sparkle with Delight, from beginning to end. ...more
The book that started my favorite franchise ever, so it started with a three-star baseline. The mere idea of cloned dinosaurs on an island, the dreamsThe book that started my favorite franchise ever, so it started with a three-star baseline. The mere idea of cloned dinosaurs on an island, the dreams that come with it and the nightmare they slowly but certainly slip into, fantastic.
It's one of the few instances where I actually think the movie is a bit better than the book, because of some character choices. The young girl was a little bit too stupid and obnoxious, Malcolm too 'clever', Hammond a bit too careless and Grant just a tad too heroic and goody two-shoes, the general tone too moralistic. Their treatment of Gennaro in the end felt uncalled for, and a certain "death" near the end really felt as if the author wanted a "just" punishment for this particular evil person. Maybe I wouldn't have felt that way if I hadn't seen the movie to compare them to the mostly loveable characters inthere, but let's be fair, who hasn't? And the movie did improve on these aspects.
But I did give it an extra star above the baseline despite what is written above, for the amazing level of detail, computer and genetic coding, the atmosphere-building (the "iteration"-idea really worked well) and in summary, for being a worthwhile read even after having seen the movie and knowing the main gist of the story. ...more
This book has got everything that spells out "great beginnings".
GrudgePunk introduced me to:
* John McNee A great author with vivid imagination and visThis book has got everything that spells out "great beginnings".
GrudgePunk introduced me to:
* John McNee A great author with vivid imagination and vision. An architect of worlds with words. A mechanic of the character.
* Bizarro Fiction An entirely new genre for me. I still don't know on which of my shelves to put this book, so I'm just keeping it on the nightstand for now. It might very well stay there, and that's saying something. If my books would come alive during the night, that's the place they'd all be vying for. The book throne, so to speak! "Book Story: Quest for the Nightstand". Winner: GrudgePunk, the one that just didn't belong. (I hope Disney is reading this.)
* The city of Grudgehaven A dark place. A cold place. Think "Gotham City", only smellier, weirder and infinitely more interesting.
At first sight, this is a collection of short stories with a singular focus on the "bizarre". The first page introduces one of the protagonists as speaking with whining springs in his brass-plated jaw, while someone in the back is clearing their throat, sounding like sewage churning up through a drain. It gets weirder. You start to wonder if the people from the city of Grudgehaven are, in fact, people, because as you go further through the pages you see something is off. Natural skin is considered as extravagant beauty, it's healthier to smoke a refreshing cigarette rather than breathe in the air and acid rainstorms are just another occasion to get rid of those dead bodies you piled up in your garage.
There's more to GrudgePunk than the "weird"-factor and this is more than just a "series" of short stories. You immediately feel they're part of something bigger, part of the story that is Grudgehaven. John McNee manages, in very few pages, to make an entire city come alive. Every district, every street, every corner has got life in it. Every filth-smeared window has got a story lurking behind.
The stories are all very engaging, some with surprising twists, all with an astounding cast of characters. Just to mention one: "The King of Broken Glass". Now you tell me with a straight face that this name doesn't intrigue you! The protagonist of one short story can be a simple passer-by in the next, the villain of one chapter the hero of the other. Plenty of perspectives are used and the result is a city teeming with life.
Is this book perfect? I can't say "yes". But I can say "yeah, sure". Not sure if that makes sense, but I guess it will just have to do. I think this is a debut stand-alone publication with a publisher that allows an author some wiggle room for experimentation, and you've simply got to love publishers like "Bizarro Press". You got to. I insist.
Anyway, the prose is very simple and clear, really nothing fancy about it, so don't expect some steampunk Charles Dickens. McNee sometimes uses the first person perspective or the third, depending on the characters. Some situations aren't described as neatly, and at one instance there was suddenly a character that popped up in a room without any introduction and without it making sense she was there. But these are such minor gripes I actually feel ashamed mentioning them. They're a tiny speck on an otherwise perfectly green and fresh apple.
To be perfectly honest, I don't think the book backflap is doing this collection a whole lot of justice. Yes, it's weird. Yes, it's brutal and deals with the underworld. But there is also warmth in these stories. And humour. And things supremely human. Just check out the quote with which I'll close. Then you'll simply go buy this book immediately after you're done reading this review. I trust no dangerous metallic devices will be necessary.
Read the weirdness. Read the darkness. Read the warmth. Read all there is to read about Grudgehaven and hope and pray that there will be much much more to come. (*)
(The following quote is about a mobster-gone-taxi-driver attending to his sick wife)
Too exhausted to protest, she settled down while I got to work, unscrewing the lead plate in her side and exposing an interlocking network of skinny pipes and pistons. Installation instructions were printed on the inside of the filter head's box and I was careful to follow them as I identified and unscrewed the old part. I had to put in a little more effort than should have been necessary working it free, and when it finally slid out of its hole I saw that the open end had been worn down to the nub. I tossed it and pressed down on the nearest valve. Black bile bubbled out of the hole in a long, guzzling stream and poured into the lid. The stink of it - like rotting meat and vinegar - was ferocious, but I held my breath and turned my head to the side, trying not to let my revulsion show. Marianne was deeply embarrassed by the smells of her sickness.
I pressed the valves a few more times to clean out the tubes, scrubbed away the crusted grime around the opening, then inserted the fresh part, gleaming with its factory-fresh newness. It secured into place with a neat 'click'.
That done, I put the lead plate back, slid out the lid (now brimming with bile) and brought my face up to hers to tell her what a great job I'd done. She was asleep. I kissed her forehead, finding it cold and dappled with condensation, then left the room.
I have encountered a great many reviews that start with "I don't know how to begin this review". By this claim the reviewer expresses doubt, but the eI have encountered a great many reviews that start with "I don't know how to begin this review". By this claim the reviewer expresses doubt, but the expression of these doubts is the immediate solution to the reviewer's predicament, making both the doubts and the claim kind of moot. I was thinking of starting off this review the same way, given that this book leaves you wondering about everything, but thinking about that as an option makes it also dishonest, because I would know where to start with this review. Luckily I found a way around it so ta-da, here we go, smooth sailing, no over-explanation there at all!
This book is a particular kind of great. It's unique in my view, but that's not saying much because my basis for comparison is rather small, so let me elaborate.
"The New York Trilogy" is comprised of three stories. This is not surprising. It makes sense. This is also the point where the "sense" stops. That big box of "sense" you're so comfortable in, all snug and cosy and warm? This book is a bucket of cold water poured all over that adorable situation, making you jump out of the box, into a beautiful realm of wild and wondrous thoughts.
The book starts with the quirky idea of the first story's protagonist being called up by a person looking for "Paul Auster". Hmmm, where have I seen that name? Daniel Quinn, a writer, the guy who has picked up the phone, decides to pretend he is in fact Paul Auster, a private investigator. A rather cute idea which is only the beginning of the story, and of a trilogy that becomes a very intricate riddle, with questions of identity and purpose pervading it. The author, the characters, the reader are all embroiled in these stories of stake-outs, shadowing, minicious observations and carefully planned investigations and what starts out as a seemingly cute gimmick of having the author's name as part of the story turns into an adventure you yourself become part of. You as a reader become the investigator. You'll get clues, but without the guarantee you'll get all of them. You'll get answers, but you'll have to find more by yourself.
[image] Paul Auster in bed, reading Paul Auster's novel, "The New York Trilogy", in New York City, New York. It's a book by Paul Auster, for Paul Auster, about several Paul Austers, including himself, Paul Auster, author otherwise known for rather austere writings.
This book is immensely readable: the prose employed makes this novel a page-turner, the plot is always intriguing enough to keep one on his toes (understatement of the year). But it's difficult. It's like a Rubic's cube, only without the guarantee that it's actually solvable.
To some readers, this is frustrating. To me, the beauty of this book is that I couldn't solve its mystery, despite convincing myself I have identified some parts of answers and some threads that connect everything. Paul Auster created one of literature's most beautiful riddles. It's a bit of a magic trick and any kind of reveal "given" to you would ruin it, so I'm not going to scour the Internet for solutions. What I am going to do, is try and solve it upon a re-read, but frankly I think I'll be a bit disappointed if I can.
The only reason I didn't give this five stars is because of the slight headache it gave me. This was probably a bit self-inflicted. I always want everything to fit. This book is like a puzzle box, but the pieces inside are from several different puzzles, none of them matching the picture on the box, and none of the puzzle-sets being complete. I tried stomping the pieces together, hence the headache. I'm planning to return to it and see if I can fill in the blanks somehow, this time without stomping on the pieces and without any headaches. I know I'll enjoy it all over again, but probably a bit differently, knowing what I think I know. This riddle-nature of the book is what makes it so unique: uniquely readable, uniquely challenging, uniquely re-readable, uniquely enjoyable. And very recommendable.
All that having been said, I really don't know how to finish this review....more
A computer game (Deus Ex) brought me to both this book as well as "The Man Who Was Thursday", by the same author. It's a strange way of getting to knoA computer game (Deus Ex) brought me to both this book as well as "The Man Who Was Thursday", by the same author. It's a strange way of getting to know about a book, but the game is my absolute favorite (even though I'm not really a gamer), and what I had suspected happened: it led me to two of my favorite books.
This is very similar to The Man Who Was Thursday in that it feels dreamlike at times, starting with a silly premise, following up on this premise with a twisted but sound inner logic, culminating in a fantastic ending with huge moral and philosophical conclusions that will leave you thinking about it a long time afterwards.
One is compelled to put it on the to-re-read list, to grasp the full thing because the depth of it gets forgotten after a while. But you also just want to read it again because Chesterton's writing is very witty, gentlemanly and refined.
I'm writing this review in the middle of the night, an hour after having read it's last page. I can't get over how perfect this book was, and I feel II'm writing this review in the middle of the night, an hour after having read it's last page. I can't get over how perfect this book was, and I feel I must write this review before being able to find sleep. This makes it possible this review is clouded by some feeling of a thrill, but even if it is, that alone is spectacular and very rare. I rate very few books five stars, and even fewer I would call perfection to boot.
But this book was perfection. And a perfect detective story at that. I've read perfect books before, but never in this genre. There was always something, sometimes a tiny thing, but always a thing that made it not quite perfecT. A lacking motivation, an unbelievable oversight, a too convenient coincidence, a far-fetched process. None of that here. This is the perfect psychological detective story. It's the first time I read one of this kind.
It's been a circle of "WOW" (the gasp of admiration) for me. WOW when I saw the book cover, WOW when I saw the synopsis, WOW when I read the first pages. Asthe story kept going, I saw the meticulousness of this author: eye for details, references to those details now and then, some of them useless for the story but very useful for strenghtening my belief that by the end of the book, the WOW would still be there. And as opposed to almost any other detective story I read, it still was. Where even the greatest like Agatha Christie sometimes have to resort to the strength of their character (like Poirot) to make certain explanations more believable, Sophie Hannah needed no such thing in this book. Explanations came from the people thinknig their thoughts and doing their actions, and all were believable.
The mystery was captivating, its solution even more so in its perfection. The psychological insights of this author are undeniable and a great strength in this book and are a big part of why it works so very very well. I want to recommend this book to everyone.
A small additional anecdote: I first saw Sophie Hannah's name when I saw she was writing a book with Poirot, my favourite detective. I thought: Who in the hell does she think she is grabbing a character from the great Christie? Now I know. I may be too quick to judge since I only read this one book by her, but looking at the large volume she already wrote, the great quality of this book, I'm thinking she's well on her way to fill her footsteps and even more.
The only thing that's stopping me right now from reading more of her works if a small worry. Somewhere I find it hard to imagine that a work of this quality could be repeated by the same author and I'd hate that disappointment cloud the experience I've had here. A small psychological quirk the author might even appreciate. But I know that one day I'll return to this Culver Valley series and keep the WOW's coming. And one day maybe even read Sophie Hannah's take on my favorite detective, if he hasn't been replaced by Simon Waterhouse by that time. ...more
I picked up this book in a bookstore (if you can believe it), not really thinking I'd buy such a big pile of pages in classical English, figuring it wI picked up this book in a bookstore (if you can believe it), not really thinking I'd buy such a big pile of pages in classical English, figuring it would bore the hell out of me.
I read the first page.
I then proceeded to the counter, and bought it.
This is the beginning of my love story with "David Copperfield", an absolute favorite. It takes a particular mindset to read it I think, so it took me a while to finish it, matching my reading moments with that mindset as much as possible. You need a romantic side and you need to be able to get in touch with it in order to enjoy this book, but if you give this tale a chance, it will nurture that sensitive side and make you get tears of joy.
This book is a biography of a wonderful, semi-fictional person, David Copperfield, whose ordeals and adventures are based on those experienced by Charles Dickens. David's thoughts are generous and because this book is written from his perspective, everything he describes around him is depicted in their best possible light. The world is such a nice place through his eyes, even in the most dreary situations of poverty, abandonment and death of loved ones. Plenty of songs of happiness and love are sung in this book, but like in every life, there is not just that. Sadness, death, loss, heartache become beautiful because of their purity and their core of warmth, a warmth so well expressed in this book. Betrayal and jealousy become even uglier when put next to the purer feelings.
It hasn't always been an easy read. Some passages are rather slow and a rare couple of segments that were meant to be funny have somehow lost their edge (most humourous instances still retain their power over your mouth corners and unshaken belly, though. They will yield, I assure you!). The local dialects in which some of the protagonists speak sometimes make it very difficult to understand for a non-native English speaker like myself.
I have read this book with a little notebook next to me to take down the most memorable quotes. It was difficult not to just simply copy entire pages at times. Here are some of my favorite quotes -who are really stories in themselves- which show the timeless humour and the great pen of an author who has shown that the most naive thing to be is to be anything but continuously amazed with the wonders all around you:
“Be thankful for me, if you have a kind heart, as I think you have, that while I know well what I am, I can be cheerful and endure it all. I am thankful for myself, at any rate, that I can find my tiny way through the world, without being beholden to anyone; and that in return for all that is thrown at me, in folly or vanity, as I go along, I can throw bubbles back.”
"Very much admired, indeed, the young woman was. What with her dress; what with the air and sun; what with being made so much of; what with this, that, and the other; her merits really attracted general notice."
"This country I am come to conquer! Have you honours? Have you riches? Have you posts of profitable pecuniary emolument? Let them be brought forward. They are mine!"
"Oh the river! I know it's like me! I know that I belong to it. I know that it's the natural company of such as I am! It comes from country places, where there was no harm in it - and it creeps through the dismal streets, defiled and miserable - and it goes away, like my life, to a great sea that is always troubled and I feel that I must go with it."
"If, any sunny forenoon, she had spread a little pair of wings and flown away before my eyes, I don't expect I should have regarded it as much more than I had had reason to expect."
"And if ever, in my life, I have had a void made in my heart, I had one made that day."
"I shall never forget the waking next morning; the being cheerful and fresh for the first moment, and then the being weighed down by the stale and dismal oppression of remembrance."
"It would be no pleasure to a London tradesman to sell anything which was what he pretended it was."
"...and that she desired her compliments, which was a polite fiction on my part."
"When I woke next morning, I was resolute to declare my passion to Dora, and know my fate. Happiness or misery was now the question. There was no other question that I knew of in the world, and only Dora could give the answer to it."
"Love must suffer in this stern world; it ever had been so, it ever would be so. No matter. Hearts confined by cobwebs would burst at last, and then Love was avenged."
If you love Love, with the big L, you'll love this Book. ...more
I remember watching this movie as a little kid. Together with Indiana Jones' wacky and kid-friendly adventures where suddenly some guy got his beatingI remember watching this movie as a little kid. Together with Indiana Jones' wacky and kid-friendly adventures where suddenly some guy got his beating heart ripped out and "The Blob", where a man is pulled through the drain of a utility sink leaving only a dangling leg, those pale twins and bloody elevators inspired my nightmares for years.
My dad didn't help matters. He sometimes gets that same Jack "Torrance" Nicholson stare, wild hairdo and green dressing gown included, which caused a small setback in our father-son relationship. He wasn't allowed to go gardening for quite a while since he could not be trusted with all those tools. Luckily our house didn't have any elevators or I probably wouldn't have survived this movie's aftermath. Even my mom was scared!
Years later, the shock finally subsided. I made myself watch that movie again and again and again and before I knew it I was a fanboy. Meaning: high expectations of the book that inspired this movie.
I made sure I read this in the right setting. I happened to be in a very old-fashioned hotel, where my "suite" consisted of several rooms, completely covered with fitted-carpet, mirrors everywhere, brownish yellow lighting and little squeaky noises. There was also a closet right next to the big double-bed that didn't entirely close and seemed like it could hold someone peeking from within its darkness. Perfect.
But, the book didn't entirely live up to those expectations. At least in some regards, because it exceeded them in others.
The main problem was that "The Shining" wasn't really scaring me. It might have been because I already had developed hard skin against this particular story, but still, somehow the focus here is not on the supernatural hotel and its ghosts, but on one guy going insane. When that guy is a father-figure you're supposed to trust, sure, and that this happens high up in a deserted hotel, yes, that all adds to the "scary" factor, but it didn't really do it for me like the twins did. Jack punching walls with a croquet mallet going boom booom boooom? That kind of got boring. I mean, how is that weapon supposed to be scary? Don't people use that for minigolf as well?
What was better though, was the character progression of Jack Torrance. A recurring criticism against the movie is that with Jack Nicholson portraying the role, the guy was already a psychopath to begin with. In this book, we see a kind and loving father with a weakness or two that become his and his family's worst nightmares.
So yes, even after having seen the movie this book is worth reading for the psychology and added depth to its characters, but if you want a good scare I'd recommend sticking to Kubrick's creation. ...more
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